


Just a Fuckhole

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, Crying, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Minimal Lube, Minimal Prep, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:11:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the <a href="http://pintokinkmeme.livejournal.com">kink meme</a>: Chris has to spend the day naked and submit to a fucking whenever Zach wants him; no matter what he's doing at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Fuckhole

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt: "Chris has to spend the day naked and submit to a fucking whenever Zach wants him; no matter what he's doing at the time."

\--

"Do you understand what I want from you?" Zach asks.

Chris nods, since he hasn't yet been given permission to speak.

"All day," Zach repeats. "Whenever I want to fuck you, you submit to it. Doesn't matter what you're doing. You're just a hole for me to rut into today. Understood?"

Another nod, Chris ignoring the flush creeping up his cheeks.

"Good." A pause, and a light hand running over his hair. "You have your safeword if you need it."

Chris knows, but he doesn't think he will. He wants to do this, even if mostly he wants to because Zach wants it so much.

Zach's stepped back and Chris focuses on the sound of his voice as he says quietly, "Take off your clothes and then you can go stand in the corner for an hour."

Chris swallows hard, hating that particular order. But he does as he's told. He folds his clothes neatly and puts them on the couch and then goes to stand in the corner, his bare ass on display.

"One hour," Zach says, tone casual behind him. "You can put your clothes back on when the timer rings."

They're in the living room, and Chris can hear Zach moving behind him, settling in to work at his laptop, and it's humiliating. Chris hates when he leaves him here like this; as if he's some sort of decoration. Just another knick knack.

He stays as still as he can though, hands at his sides and just his nose pressed to the corner while his ass sticks out slightly, because he's been here often enough to know what Zach expects. And he's slightly afraid of what new awful punishments he'll be subjected to if he isn't obedient.

He's also already hard, his dick bumping against the wall as he sways slightly. He jumps in surprise when fingers clamp around his neck. He instinctively tries to turn, but Zach presses his face into the wall.

"Spread your legs," he orders and Chris immediately does as he's told, legs going wide, ass moving farther away from the wall. He hears the squirt of lube—and is relieved that Zach is generous enough to give him that much.

A slick finger is shoved in without warning and Chris hisses at the burn. Zach pumps it into him a few times, making him wince on the pull-out every time, although he's left panting and bereft when Zach takes it away completely. "Get down on your knees and show me that hole," Zach orders quietly and even though Chris tries to comply quickly, his ass is smacked anyway.

Chris moves faster, falling to his knees and grabbing at his ass cheeks, spreading them wide and getting no comment in return except a sharp, "Hands on the floor."

Once Chris obeys, Zach grips his hip and lines up, sinking in in one stroke, stretching Chris open so it burns and tears sting at his eyes. "Just a hole," Zach breathes, sounding very happy about it. "That's all you are." And he proves it by ignoring Chris' dick completely, pushing in and out without words or finesse. Just humping him like he really is just a convenient place to stick his dick.

Chris grits his teeth and takes it, hands sinking into the carpet and trying to hold on. And when Zach comes, it's with a satisfied grunt, a few more thrusts to milk every last drop of spunk into Chris' ass and then he pulls out with a sigh.

Chris listens to him zipping up. "Back in the corner. You still have twenty minutes," Zach orders, no endearments, no encouragements, not even a caress. He does get another sharp smack though when he doesn't move fast enough.

His face burning with humiliation, Chris lumbers to his feet, his dick aching now. But he keeps his hands away and leans his nose back into the corner. Zach's jizz is leaking down his leg.

Zach comes back a minute later with another order for him to spread. Chris clenches his jaw and readying for a painful thrust of fingers, he obliges. A rough cloth is rubbed up against his asshole instead, wiping at the jizz and then Zach drops the cloth on the floor without a word.

He leaves him alone after that, leaves him with his humiliation and stinging throat.

Once the timer goes off, Chris half-expects Zach to say something, but he doesn't so Chris turns around carefully, mindful of the ache in his ass. Zach is reading a book, ignoring him.

Chris retrieves his clothes, watching him; just in case he's doing something wrong. But still nothing comes. He gets dressed in silence and wonders if he's allowed to ask for a shower. He thinks he doesn't want to take his chances. His dick has subsided a little bit.

He has no idea what to do though. His own book is lying on the coffee table, and since he's not sure if Zach will approve of him leaving the room, he sits carefully on the sofa and starts reading.

Zach says nothing at all.

It's difficult to focus at first; he keeps waiting for Zach to say something. Or for Zach to demand he go back to the corner. But nothing comes. And eventually, Chris starts paying attention to his book, and forgets about Zach.

Zach's phone rings somewhere along the way, and Chris looks up, startled. Is even more startled to realise two hours have gone by. The realisation of what he agreed to crowds in for a second, but Zach is just talking on the phone like he normally does—to his brother, it sounds like.

So Chris thinks now might be a good time to get a drink. And maybe something to eat while he's at it.

He's just finishing his water—setting the glass in the sink—when Zach comes into the kitchen. Chris opens his mouth to asks what Joe wanted, but Zach cuts him off, "Pants off, and bend over the table."

Chris stares at him, too surprised by the curt order to comply immediately.

"Don't make me tell you again," Zach says, voice like flint and Chris' hands are already fumbling with his zipper. His pants and underwear are pooled on the floor a second later. He bends over the sturdy table, scrabbling for purchase at its edges only a second before Zach is behind him, pulling his ass cheeks apart.

There is no prep this time, but there is lube—a little bit. Chris is shoved roughly into the wood with the first stroke, Zach's balls slapping against his ass. Chris cries out, unable to stop himself but Zach pays no attention to his noises, pays no attention to him at all; just shoves in and out, making his own sounds of deep satisfaction, his nails digging painfully into Chris' hips, eventually gripping Chris' hair, yanking painfully so that Chris cries out again. 

Zach comes quickly after that, pulls out even before the last drops have been pulled free of his dick. That rough cloth is swiped over Chris' hole perfunctorily, no gentleness at all. And then Zach zips up and turns away. "Don't put the pants back on," he says over his shoulder. "I want that fuckhole ready for me next time."

Chris lies against the table, trying to get his breath back, his dick hanging heavy between his legs, untouched.

It takes a long time before he straightens. He's unsteady on his legs. The cloth is on the floor, discarded just like Chris. His dick is still full, jutting out and on display. Except Zach isn't even here to see him.

Swallowing hard, Chris bends down for his pants and then remembers Zach's order so he leaves them there. He's still hungry he realises and with just a quick peek into the living room—Zach isn't in there, he chooses an apple from the bowl on the counter and eats it standing up; too worried to do anything else.

But Zach doesn't come back in the kitchen. Chris eventually realises he's in his office, typing out emails and making more phone calls. Chris isn't sure where he's supposed to go or what he's supposed to be doing. He wishes vaguely that Zach had just told him to stand in the corner all day.

He doesn't like this feeling of being untethered. He wanders the living room aimlessly for awhile, trying once to read his book and giving up to straighten things that are already straightened.

And when he has to piss, he finds himself moving carefully past the office, but Zach is still working on emails and pays him no mind. So Chris is startled enough to jump when the bathroom door bangs open and Zach strides in.

Chris is leaning over the toilet, just shaking off the last drops of piss. He stares at Zach, but Zach just orders, "Bend over."

Dumbstruck and with his face burning bright red, Chris can't even protest as Zach's hand clamps around his neck and forces him to either catch the wall with his hands or be pushed into it face-first.

It's spit this time, warm over Chris' hole and then Zach fucking him mercilessly, grunting and groaning like he's all alone and enjoying some solitary time with his dick. He doesn't even come.

Just eventually pulls out without a word, and leaves, not even bothering with the cloth this time even though spit and leftover jizz are oozing from Chris' ass.

He leaves the door open too and Chris is left to wipe up himself. There are tears of humiliation burning his eyes. His traitorous dick is throbbing, so hard that it's leaking a little again.

Aching for attention. Even it's just offering his ass to Zach again, Chris would take it.

But Zach doesn't come back for hours. He even leaves at one point, just for a little while. When he breezes back in, his cheeks flushed from the cold, looking relaxed and happy. Chris is sitting stiffly on the couch, and has been; waiting; not knowing what else to do except sip at the water beside him. He's too tense to eat more than a few bites here and there, although there's food sitting on the coffee table.

He watches Zach take off his coat, watches him go into the kitchen and come out again. Expects him to say something—or at least to fuck him again. But he doesn't. He goes into the bedroom for awhile. And when he returns, he says, "Bend over the couch."

Chris scrambles to obey, ass twinging. His shudders as Zach moves close, his dick thickening, bobbing against his stomach. He grips the back of the couch a little harder, biting his lip as he waits for Zach to push in.

And he does push in, his dick nicely lubed, bottoms out without any prep and starts fucking him in earnest, those grunts like music. Chris' dick pulses with each thrust and it's so tempting to beg; has to bite the inside of his cheek.

Zach comes this time, with a groan, pushing in so hard that Chris nearly loses his grip on the couch. Sighing with deep satisfaction, and shaking himself off into Chris' asshole first, Zach pulls out.

"On the floor," he grunts. "Ass in the air."

Chris obeys, although his legs are shaky. He doesn't know how Zach plans to fuck him right after coming, but Zach doesn't fuck him. He leaves him there.

Chris has no idea how long he stays there, his cheek pressed to the carpet, his ass on display, Zach's jizz dripping from his hole. But he doesn't worry about it after awhile. Just drifts, feeling languid and fuzzy.

Eventually, Zach comes back. Chris hears his footsteps, hears the scrape of his pants as he kneels on the carpet, the scratch of his zipper being tugged down. Chris pushes his ass higher into the air in welcome.

Zach spreads his cheeks, one of his fingers circling, stabbing in lightly and out again. "Such a pretty hole," he says quietly. "A nice fuckhole just for me…" Chris shivers, spreads his knees wider for him.

The finger is traded for his cockhead, dipping shallowly in and out. "Perfect size," he murmurs. "Just the right size for my dick. And it's all wet too." He inches in a little, holding Chris open and Chris wants to push back into it, but he stops himself, holds perfectly still for Zach.

He's just a hole. Just a hole for Zach.

Zach's fingers pet around the rim, sighing contently. "Such a nice big hole," he breathes and pushes all the way in. "Swallowing my dick up." The fuck is slow this time.

Chris feels disconnected from it, floaty as Zach thrusts in and out, balls pushing against his own. He closes his eyes, rocking back and forth with each thrust, his face pressing into the carpet, scraping along so it burns. But he takes his fucking, bears down on Zach's dick—wants to be a good hole for him—and when Zach pulls out, Chris has to bite back a sob.

He's turned over without preamble over and Chris blinks up at him, tries to talk but he can't. Zach is shoving his knees to his chest and pushing in again, sighing in contentment and starts up a punishing rhythm.

But he still doesn't touch Chris' dick.

"Am I being good?" Chris rasps before he can stop himself. But Zach doesn't scold him. He pushes Chris' legs up higher, encouraging him to curl into it; which he does.

"You're just a fuckhole," he sighs. "Just a hole for me to stick my dick into."

Chris has no argument; doesn't even want to argue. Zach fucks him harder, cheeks spotted with color. He pulls out before he's finished though.

"Keep those legs up," he snaps when Chris starts to move. Chris lifts his legs back up, his cheeks lighting on fire again. Zach gets up without a word and leaves the room. When he eventually comes back Chris is close to giving up his efforts.

Zach kneels down again, without a word, and shoves into him. Chris cries out, but Zach is relentless, driving into him over and over, ignoring the pleas. He pulls out suddenly again, without warning. He looks annoyed.

Chris stares at him, trembling. Zach isn't looking at him though. He's studying Chris' asshole, frowning at it. "Such a filthy hole. I don't like using dirty fuckholes."

Chris holds his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Zach pulls his cheeks apart, still frowning critically. "Go wash that thing up," he finally sighs, sounding so disgusted that Chris' chest squeezes. "Don't come back until it's clean for me. And then pick a corner in the bedroom and get your nose to the wall."

Zach has to help him up when he nearly falls on his way up. When he's steady though, he gets a shove toward the bedroom. Chris goes, humiliated—and hard. Aching for anything Zach might choose to give him.

He runs a hand over his dick once he's in the shower, just a touch. Just one. And then he spends the rest of the time hoping Zach won't find out.

He's back in bedroom as fast as he can, going straight for the corner even though Zach isn't in there. It's late, and Chris is exhausted. He presses his nose carefully to the wall, making sure his ass is at the angle Zach most likes.

And eventually he comes in, but he doesn't come over. He takes a shower first, taking his time. Taking his time while he gets dressed as well. When he returns to the wall, it's to stand behind him without a word. No doubt taking note of the flush that creeps up Chris' neck.

"Bend over," he finally orders. "Spread your legs."

Chris obeys, legs spread wide. Zach pulls his asscheeks apart again, inspecting his hole with a series of considering grunts, completely ignoring Chris' swinging balls. Chris starts as a finger is pushed in, no lube. So it burns. It moves in and out, thoughtfully, aimlessly.

He keeps it for awhile, and when he gets tired of fingering him, he says in a bored voice, "On the bed, on your back, legs straight up."

The position Chris hates the most. Hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. But he obeys anyway, closing his eyes as the humiliation thrums through him. He listens to the squirt of lube and then Zach takes hold of his calves, spreading his legs a little. "Let me see my fuckhole."

Trying to control the tears climbing up his throat, Chris reaches down and pulls his asscheeks wide. Zach pushes in. Doesn't even look at him while he fucks him. It's mechanical and awful and Chris wants to cry. His lips are trembling, but Zach makes no comment. Just keeps fucking him, grunting happily as he pounds into him; and when he comes with a long sigh, the tears spill over.

Zach pushes deeper into him, ignoring him completely while he finishes, another deep sigh before he pulls out. He holds Chris' legs together, reaching over for a fresh cloth and wiping him down. Chris' cheeks are dark with humiliation as he submits to it, his fingers clawing at the sheets.

Chris swallows noisily, wincing at the scrape of the fabric. Zach still isn't looking at him. Not even when he starts applying creams to his sore asshole. He's careful at least and when he's finished, he tosses the creams aside and says curtly, "Get under the blankets.

Chris' limbs are sluggish as he crawls up the bed, fumbles with the blankets and finally manages to do as he's told. Zach joins him a few minutes later. Chris waits stiffly, ready for Zach to order him to submit to another fucking. But he slides in close instead and and pulls Chris into his arms.

Choking on a sob, Chris clutches at him. Zach shushes him, arms tightening as he presses soothing kisses to his temple. "You're okay," he promises him. "Shh… I've got you."

His dick is throbbing, pressing into Zach's stomach, but Chris doesn't care. Doesn't care if he ever comes.

Zach's hands are rubbing circles against his back, fingers threading gently through his hair, catching his shivers and kissing him still, murmuring how good he is. "Do you want to come for me now?" he asks quietly, hand sliding between their bodies, to caress lightly as his cockhead and Chris has never felt anything so welcome. "I'm so proud of you," he says as he jerks him slowly, catching pre-come with his thumb while Chris trembles. "You did so well."

The words make the tears climb up his throat again. "I was a good fuckhole?"

Zach laps at his fresh tears. "You were such a good boy," he whispers. "So good. Let me take care of you now."

Chris nods jerkily, the tension slowly fading from his chest. Zach keeps up the soothing words, telling him how gorgeous he is, how much he loves him, all while jacking him slowly; carefully. And Chris starts to relax, starts to believe him. And when he lifts his head, mouth seeking, Zach pulls him in, snug, and kisses him.


End file.
